To Break a Rider
by BlackBird666
Summary: The Varden is deafeated and Eragon is captured. How long can he hold out before he breaks? Warning: rated M for torture, rape and adult themes. Hints of EragonXMurtagh and EragonXArya.
1. Chapter 1

Eragon lay on his side, curled up on the cold stone floor of his cell. He had long ago given up hope of reaching Saphira, he knew she lived but e was unable to reach her no matter how hard he tried. His magic, sword and clothes were gone yet he had no memory of ever parting them.

_Strange_ he thought, _I have not been here a day and I am already losing my mind. _

Or had he lost it already? Eragon was no longer sure. What he was sure of was that Arya was dead and so was Roran. And Nausuada. And Katrina. And Horst. And Elaine. And the elven spell castors. And everyone else he had ever cared for. _Well not everyone_. Did Murtagh count? Perhaps, but even then the Murtagh he had loved was dead, crushed under galbatroix's tyranny like an ant under a soldiers boot. _No not an ant, a perfect lion, that's what he was, a strong, brave, proud and now dead lion. As I will be. But then I was never a lion, i was more a house cat than a true lion. Was? Yes defiantly was._ With the cold leaching into his battered body all Eragon had ever hoped to accomplish seemed to fade away. He was tired of feigning courage and pretending the dead didn't haunt his dreams. Tired of pretending he didn't hear screams every time he closed his eyes. _Brothers, fathers uncles, sons, husbands all ripped from life by _my_ blade. By_ my_ hands, gods by _mythoughts_. all dead, all gone. Will they welcome me when I descend into blessed darkness? Or will they tear me apart and never let me rest?_

Eragon's shoulders shook with sobs until he at last slipped into his dreams, which were, as ever, no comfort.

Eragon jolted awake as the guard through the door of his cell open.

"Good morning Eragon" a middle aged man dressed in a silken robe crooned. The man walked in a circle around Eragon before stopping at his head.

Eragon attempted to rise but the strange man kicked him in the ribs. Hard.

"Please, don't get up." The man said an edge of sarcasm in his voice. "Ohh my, my you do look terrible. I would get you some cloths but your muscles really are to perfect to hide" the man knelt next to Eragon and ran a soft had down his spine before bringing it to rest on his buttocks. The man licked his lips. "Hmmm and you are a fine one aren't you?"

Eragon stiffened and tried desperately to move, wanting to escape the man and the implications of what he had just said. But in vain, his arms and legs felt like they were held down by lead weights.

"What did you do to me!" he shouted.

"Can't have you leaving just yet love, no not ever." The man mumered. He turned to the guard "bring him to my chambers; I want to play a bit with this one."

Eragon watched the exchange in absolute horror, _I must not scream, I must not show weakness. I must—_His train of thought was severed as the butt end of a spear slammed into his temple. 

When he awoke his battered body was strapped to a cold metal table. The strange man from the prison cell was grinning like an absolute maniac as he stroked Eragon's chest, finding that he could once again move Eragon fought against his restrains.

"Uh, uh, uh. Mustn't do that love, you'll only hurt yourself" the man crooned "besides you'll never escape, the king himself spelled those pretty chains against your elven strength, precious one."

"Who are you?! And what do you want with me?!" Eragon shouted.

"What do I want with you?" he said dreamily "I want you honey, just you. The king though, he wants what you have in here" tapping Eragon's forehead "_I_ want the rest of you. _You _may address _me_ as master."

The thought of calling this disgusting man as he had called Oromis sickened Eragon. "Never" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, you will love; you will" with an abrupt change in voice he said "just like that elf bitch Arya! She screamed my name as she writhed under me" softening his voice once more he continued "as will you precious one, as will you."

The thought of this man touching Arya, his beautiful, dead Arya made Eragon retch. "I'll kill you! You disgusting son of a bitch!"

He laughed, as one might at a small peasant child who wanted to grow up to be a king. "That's where you're wrong, my lovely one, my mother was a whore, not a bitch. And as for killing, the only thing that's going to die in this room is your soul."

As Eragon watched the man from instrument to instrument with expression of childish glee on his face. He began to hum a merry tune under his breath as he sharpened a small knife; from a drawer in a large oak desk he pulled out a collection of hammers and chisels that rivalled Horst's which he cleaned to a sparkling shine.

_He enjoys this_ thought Eragon _enjoys setting up for the kill as much as making it._ The man was clearly going to take his sweet time so Eragon attempted to let his mind wander past the prison walls and out into the divided world. Even after the Varden's crushing defeat at Dras Leona they would carry on the fight. Wouldn't they? Angela would lead them. _Angela is dead_ an unnamed voice in his head taunted, _no, she lives. She has to live_ he answered. In his heart he knew she was dead, no one could survive dragon fire not even one of her talents. _Murtagh _**murdered**___her._ And then captured Eragon and left him in this cell to rot. _Aye, but you're not in your cell you're stretched out like deer carcase on an ice cold table waiting for a mad man to decide your fate. Pitiful excuse for a rider you are._

"Ready to start honey or are you going to play hard to get" the man's sickly sweet voice invaded his private thought and pulled him out of him mind and back onto the icy table. The man held a whip made of three red hot chains in his left hand and stroked Eragon's body with his right.

"Don't touch me" Eragon hissed.

_Crack!_ The whip snapped and struck the bare skin of his chest with surprising force. It was all he could do not to scream. The whip snapped and bit at his skin until it seemed his whole body was afire. The mad man chuckled gently and the blows gradually came to a halt. The man's long nailed hand once again came to rest on Eragon's chest, but it did not remain there, instead making brief excursions down to lower areas.

"My sweet love are you sure you don't want to tell me a tinsy bit about the elves." The man whispered into Eragon's ear nibbling the point. "How like an elf you look, how perfect, how fair, how lovely you are my fey creature. I could stop having to hurt you honey, it could be so wonderful, just you and I no need for silly toys such as these."

"I'm not—I won't-- I'm not like you. I'll never submit" Eragon stuttered.

"Come now, my precious love, we know _all_ of Murtagh's memories. If you could summon half of the vigour you did with him you would make an excellent lover." A wicked gleam entered the man's eyes as he whispered "And honey those are almost the exact words Murtagh spoke before he broke. Before he cried out my name in ecstasy. Before he became _mine_. But worry not my sweet love Murtagh was merely the appetizer, I have plenty of room left over for you."

He did not speak or interrogate Eragon for what seemed like an eternity; instead he turned to other means of persuasion. He used the whip again, but he seemed to tire of it and moved onto brands, the rack and eventually thumbs screws. Eragon couldn't help it; he screamed bloody murder when the vice clapped over his hand, he could feel the marrow being squeezed out of his bone and heard the sickening crunch as bone and flesh of his hand became a single lump of pure agony.

"Scream for me baby!" the man shouted.

"What do you want from me!?" Eragon screamed "please anything, just not again."

"Tell me how the scar on your back was healed" the man shouted, his voice bouncing around the walls of the stone chamber.

"Never, I'll never tell you anything of them! You will have to kill me!"

"I hope we don't my love, you are far too perfect to waste." He chuckled "and you know Murtagh only started screaming by the second day, you my precious love have started on the second hour. It took Murtagh a week to break, how long will it take you I wonder? Ahh, Murtagh he was such a wonder full challenge I almost thought he would go mad and we wouldn't get a thing from him. Mustn't go mad my lovely Eragon you are too important."

"What did you do to him?" Eragon asked, horrified.

"What didn't I do to him, love? It was glorious when he finally called me master, he was a strong one. But you my love, are a bit more fragile. You can last no more than three days i think. What a shame, the games we could play given the proper time. Ahh, well I'll soon have elves to console myself with, dwarves too."

Eragon continued to scream as the man moved onto the hammers, which he used to break all the bones in Eragon's left arm. Slowly numbness began to creep into Eragon's body, he barely felt the man twist his nipples and felt nothing as he began cutting small pieces of skin off his abdomen.

"Hmm, numb already sweet heart, I can remedy that" the man pulled a small vial from inside of his immaculate blue robe and forced the contents down Eragon's throat. "This was the elf bitches favourite, I hope like it honey."

Eragon began to feel the effects of the poison immediately; it felt as if someone had stuck a burning knife into his stomach and set his blood aflame. He could not suppress the groans and screams that forced themselves out of his tightly closed lips. He tried in vain to curl up into a ball but the bindings on his feet made this impossible. The man stroked his chest and upraised arms, humming to himself as he watched the poison take hold of his victim, when Eragon began foaming at the mouth he forced the antidote done his throat.

"Mustn't have you go mad my love, no my precious one, never."

_But I'm already mad_ Eragon thought before he descended into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

"Eragon! Eragon! Can you hear me, wake up!"

Eragon rolled over exposing his battered body to the torch light. His ribs stuck out and his muscles had begun to wither and die. Black bruises and angry red welts covered his entire body. Most of his injuries, though painful, were minor; after every session with the man his most severe injuries were healed with the exception of a cut off ring finger. _So you will never belong to anyone except me_ the man's sickly sweet voice reverberated in Eragon's head, taunting him. It was only at the moment that Eragon had felt the blood spurt from the place where his finger had once been that he realized they had taken the gold ring Murtagh had given him and the silver one given to him by Arya. The last trinkets his lost lovers had given him.

"Eragon" the achingly familiar voice whispered. A callused hand caressed his cheek. "What have they done to you?"

He looked up, meeting onyx eyes for a brief second and quickly dropping his gaze back to the floor.

"Look at me brother" the son of Morzan said in the ancient language.

Without looking up Eragon replied in a voice hoarse from screaming "I have no brother."

Morzan's son flinched at the complete absence of emotion in his former lover's voice. Silently the black haired man stroked Eragon's bruises with shaking fingers. Brown eyes watched as broken and blackened skin returned to a healthy cream colour. It was no longer Eragon's skin or even his body. His body had betrayed him so in the gloom of his cell he had disowned it. His mouth had screamed and cursed, while his once strong muscles died a slow death. Even his bones no longer consented to hold him up right. His skin was the worst; it cracked and bled where he needed it most, and the perhaps worst of all it decided to stop feeling. As soon as the man realized he forced the poison down Eragon's throat and watched him squirm for what felt like hours.

"Eragon, I, didn't think that he would do this. Not to you." The son of Morzan's voice broke.

Eragon would have been bewildered if he could feel anything but the rage and hatred boiling in his gut.

"I thought he would break you quickly, and not even use a torturer. You are stronger than we thought, the elves must have taught you well." The black haired man said.

"You murdered my teacher." Eragon murmured and tears streamed down a face no longer his as he recalled the others the man who was now stroking him so tenderly had killed. His voice grew stronger "you murdered my liege. You murdered my friends. You murdered my brother! MY WIFE! Everyone I ever loved! All of them!"

"Your wife? The elf slut?!"

"I fucking loved her you traitorous bastard! I loved her so much." Eragon said brokenly.

Startled by the younger mans outburst the son of Morzan whispered almost too low to hear "do you love me."

"The only man I ever loved was Murtagh, and he is lost" Eragon whispered.

"I am Murtagh. Your brother. Your lover."

"Murtagh is dead; you are a demon and the son of Morzan. A red rider who heralds death and misery. May you burn in hell for all eternity." Eragon's tone was devoid of all emotion, yet tears streamed from his dead brown eyes.

The red rider did not speak for many long minutes, though he heard no sound Eragon felt tears dripping on his disowned skin.

"Brother, hate if you like but I beg you submit. Tell the king what he needs to know. Do not torment yourself so. He will get what he wants from you, now or later it matters not to him." The son of Morzan pleaded.

"I will not call him master." Eragon replied with a sense of finality.

"Won't you, my love" the man's sickly sweet voice invaded the cell.

The raven haired man snapped his head up as he turned to regard the man.

"Sweeting leave before I call the king and have you returned to my bed. Permanently. My prize and I have many things to discus." The man commanded

"Wait! Let me try to get into his mind, I'm stronger than him, I always was" Murtagh argued.

"Al-l-l-right," the man drew out the word as if he were truly deciding. "But I think a little pain would go along way during this experiment. Don't you agree my love" the man said fondling Eragon's chin.

"Don't touch him" Murtagh growled.

"Jealous sweeting? You should be; Eragon is mine now, my pretty little elf" the man crooned.

Eragon watched the exchange with mild interest until a guard back handed him and darkness invaded his vision.

Just as every uncounted time before Eragon felt the cool metal of the table under him when he awoke; he opened his eyes and viewed familiar horrors. The scene was the same except for the red rider standing in the centre of the room head bowed, broad shoulders slumped. Recalling the conversation in his cell he prepared his mind of was to come, selecting an image of Arya and Saphira and taking deep calming breaths. His mouth screamed when the whip snapped and cut his newly healed flesh to ribbons. After ten lashes all thoughts of Arya were gone from Eragon's mind, there only pain for many long minutes.

"Now" the man commanded.

Eragon felt a presence rub against his mind, and immediately focused on the first memory of strong emotion that he could find. It was the first time Murtagh had kissed him, about two weeks after Brom's death. He remembered the feel of the man's calloused hands in his hair and concentrated on his firm, yet gentle lips. The presence recoiled when it met Eragon's wall of emotion, it could find no gaps or cracks in his defence.

A whip cracked, and broke flesh and bone. A brand hissed and skin smouldered. A vice twisted and marrow was wrung from bones. A vile was uncapped and poison was forced down a throat. Eragon felt none of it; the body was no longer his. He had only his sweet memory of his first kiss and first love. Eventually the presence recoiled and Eragon drifted out of space and time and into the world of dreams, where nightmares are banished and whips do not crack.

He awoke, as always, alone in his cell but for the fiery demon of pain and the cold angel of misery.

_No one is coming for me_ this was something he had thought of before, every waking second of his stay here. How could they come for him, he was a hundred leagues under the Spine in the empires most secure prison and they were all dead.

_I will die here_ the realization startled him. Every time he had gone into battle or done something dangerous it had never occurred to him that he would actually die. Until he had come to this gods cursed place. Until he was alone in his mind. Until he had seen his still living liege speared to the ground like a bug in a collection. Until he had watched the skin sizzle off his brothers face as dragon fire swept over him. Until he had seen his sister in laws corpse hanging from a homemade noose, the loss of her child and husband too much for her to bear. Until he had watched his pregnant wife slaughtered by his former lover and brother. Until he had given up hope.

_Why do I still resist_ he did not ponder the question long before the answer was before him, clear as Brom's diamond tomb.

_Because I am the last. _

_Because I vowed I would end this. _


	3. Chapter 3

_The sound of water dripping in his cell was beginning to drive him mad. _Madder_ he thought with a grimace. He had heard nothing but that single sound for too long. Whether it had been a minute or a life time he did not know, only that it was too long. _

_He had not seen the Red Rider, or the man or any other living soul in a long time too. Perhaps they had forgotten him. _No there is fresh food_. The guard had slipped it into his cell some time ago, but Eragon had not eaten it for fear that it was drugged. _It's not drugged, you're just too weak,_ A voice in his head snapped viciously. _

_What the nameless voice said was true, Eragon had not eaten for many feedings and was still magic less. It had weakened him, gut it was worth it. It proved to the voices in his head that he was pathetic and that despair was the best course of action. _

_Suddenly a sound, a voice softly whispering words of power that had long eluded him. Footsteps, so loud in Eragon's stillness that he covered his ears. A man's voice "Eragon?" cautious. _

_The Shadeslayer felt the stale air of his cell move as the body that belonged to the voiced walked over to him. Eragon flinched back to the corner of his cell, for both body and voice belonged to the Red Rider._

"_Eragon I am sorry" the Red Rider pleaded "I was trying to help you."_

_Eragon was silent, knowing that if he remained so for long enough the voice, like all the others in his mind would simply disappear. _

_Morzan's son knelt next to him and touched the wounds on his back but before he could speak the ancient words Eragon screamed formlessly and scuttled away from him. He began to sob, he would not be touched by this monster, and he had endured enough unwanted caresses in the darkness. _

"_I am not him" the Red Rider whispered, for even he high in his tower room had heard Eragon scream the last time the man came. "You know me, I would not hurt you."_

_Unresponsive Eragon sobbed into his knees and flinched when the raven haired man touched him but did not try to stop him when he began to heal his wounds. _

"_Eragon I love you, please do not do this. Talk to me." The Red Rider was gentle, almost tender._

_Unable to bear it any more Eragon screamed "I hate you! I do not love you! I love Arya! Perfect, beautiful Arya, you _murdered_ her! You murdered our son!" Eragon started sobbing again as images of a green-eyed child began to eat at his mind. _

"_Your son?" the Red Rider whispered at loss. _

_With green eyes still staring at him from inside his mind he picked up the first thing he could find and plunged it into the Red Riders neck. The small stone chip would have done little damage but with the force of the Riders rage behind it sliced open his jugular with ease. _

_The Red Rider watched as crimson blood spurted from his neck, soaking his fine silk tunic and painting the walls the colour of vengeance. _

"_I'm sorry, beloved" Murtagh gurgled. His once white teeth were now stained the colour of blood and he fought for air. "I loved you in life, forgive me in death."_

_As his brother's life blood pumped out of his body Eragon experienced a moment of clarity in his all consuming madness and whispered "I cannot forgive what you did not do. I love you, brother." _

_The Shadeslayer watched as the life went out of onyx eyes but did not remove the stone chip from his neck. After many long minutes of holding his former lovers abandoned body he abruptly kissed his brow and placed him on the ground._

_Watching his beloved's still chest Eragon heard a single mournful and rage filled call echo through the prison. It lasted a full minute before it was abruptly cut off, leaving The Shadeslayer miserable and unfulfilled. _

_But the moment past and he was once again resigned to his quiet madness. Eragon crept over to his lover's broken body and calmly closed onyx eyes. He did not want his lion to see what he had become. Carefully and gently Eragon searched the corpse's pockets until he found what he was looking for, a thin knife. Without conscious thought Eragon began to removed his shirt, it was much too big for him in his withered state but it made him feel like a human again._

_A sudden sparkle caught his eye. A chain, crusted with blood and gore hung around his brother's neck. With careful fingers Eragon undid the clasp and pulled it, two small circles of metal clinked against the stone floor. One was gold, the other silver. He picked up the two trinkets with shaking fingers and clutched them to his chest, remembering._

_Murtagh breathing a simple _I love you_ into his ear as they lay entwined in each other's arms. Feeling the small bulge of Arya stomach move with the first flutters of life. _

_Scrying Murtagh until his voice has hoarse. Searching in vain for Arya's mind amidst the chaos of battle._

_Watching Murtagh's blade meet his and knowing his lover was lost. Finding a blackened corpse only recognizable as Arya from the silver ring on her left hand. _

_He lay curled up in his cell, wanting death to come. Death obliged._

_But not in the form he had hoped for, this death was still dark but it was a mad, seething darkness housed in flesh and bone. _

_A black cloaked murderer-king threw open the door of Eragon's blood spattered cell._

"_Thank you Eragon." The king said distractedly, "For killing him. He was quiet a nuisance, I should have done away with him long ago. But such a pretty face, such a tight hole."_

_Eragon's face contorted with a mixture of hatred and disgust._

_Oblivious to Eragon's distress the king continued, "You know, I can end your existence here. And now. And your pitiful dragon's."_

_Eragon squirmed, he had not thought of Saphira very often. The pain was too raw and it consumed him whenever he allowed his mind to wander to that subject._

"_Help me Eragon and I will spare you. You will live in comfort until the end of time. You could be a son to me." The Kings voice had taken on a sing-song quality. _

_He paced closer to Eragon, detailing all that would be his if he but lowered his barriers. However any temptation that Eragon might have felt was incinerated in one glance at his fallen lover. He would kill Galbatorix as he had said, here and now. _

_Watching the mad king through half lidded eyes Eragon waited, _a little closer_. _One more step and your rein is ended.

_Then a step. The single greatest thing he would ever do, was lost on a backward step. Lost on a messenger who had arrived in time to seal Alagal__ë__sia's doom. _

NO!_ The voices in Eragon's mind screamed as one. _This cannot happen._ "Wait!" Eragon screamed, pouring all his emotion into the sound. _

_The mad king turned, hazel eyes questioning. _

"_I'll do whatever you want, anything please! Take me from this place." Eragon cried desperately._

_The mad king re-entered the room and stood over Eragon, casting his great black shadow on him. "Ohh?"_

"_Please, my king I beg you, spare me." He babbled tears falling from his dull brown eyes. He got onto his knees, still crying, still babbling._

_Galbatorix leaned forward, spittle fling from his lips. "You will serve me?"_

_He moved closer still and Eragon held his breath; the king took Eragon's chin in his hand and pulled his face up to him. The Shadeslayer's brown eyes were no longer dead; they shone with the fire of determination. And madness, all consuming unadulterated madness. He leaned back involuntarily "You will serve me!" The mad king cried. _

"_Never!" Eragon screamed and cut him a new and gaping mouth._

_Blood gurgled from Galbatorix's lips and spurted onto the walls. He fell clutching at his throat and the blade Eragon had put there. _

_Armoured soldiers rushed into the room and beheld their dying king. The one who had killed him was grinning triumphantly, causing the blood caked his face to crack and flake off. The King Killer stood and fresh blood ran in rivulets off his broken body to pool on the cold floor. _

"_Brisingr" Eragon murmured and they cooked in their armour, flesh melting away from bone and dripping like candle wax to the floor. When Galbatorix died so to had his magic. _

_Gently Eragon knelt at Murtagh's side and placed the two rings next to him. They were Eragon's heart and soul, so they belonged to Murtagh. Then he carefully stepped out of the cell and walked up the winding passage. _

_He saw no soldiers, only the tiny speck of freedom that grew ever closer. He reached the surface, a long forgotten sun dried blood of an enemy and a lover on him like a second skin._

_Breathing the free mountain air he stood on the rim watching the play of light and darkness at the bottom of the canyon. _

Beautiful_ he thought and stepped over the edge into sweet abyss. _


	4. Epilogue: A happier ending

"_Kenneth, hurry up are you going to make an old woman wait?" the old woman snapped._

"_I'm coming Angela!" Kenneth answered. The brown haired sixteen year old pulled himself up the sheer rock wall, green eyes flashing with pleasure._

_His young dragon Naolin dived through the air after them, almost knocking Angela off the cliff. _

"_Watch it you over grown lizard!" She cried grabbing a tree branch for support. The gust of wind generated by the orange dragon's wings knocked her shawl asunder, revealing to the world the thick puckered scars that covered most of her body. _

_When at last Kenneth pulled himself up next to her she said "__Unvermeidlich Prison. Your father died here, his body was never found so this is his final resting place." Angela murmured almost reverently, her aged yet strong hands pulled open the small stone door. "Light?" she asked, always looking for an opportunity for Kenneth to practise his spells. _

"_Garjzla" the boy whispered and a yellow light appeared above his head._

_Kenneth eagerly followed Angela down the tunnels; she stopped at a room with a frigid metal door. Inside a metal table stood ominously in the centre of the room, in the corner there was a small wood stove and a table littered with hammers and chisels. _

_Angela said nothing but a few stray tears fell down her scared face._

_They continued on through the darkness until they came to a row of three cells. The damp climate caused moss and mould to grow in two of the cells. Bones littered the floor and rats hid in dark corners, feasting on unknown prey. _

_Angela stopped at the third cell and pushed it open. The walls were covered in sixteen year old blood. No moss grew, no rats scuttled and no bats slept. Kenneth entered the room behind her and gazed around in morbid fascination. _

"_How long was my father here before he died" he asked quietly._

"_Three weeks" Angela replied "the longest any one has ever survived this place." _

_A flash of metal caught his eye he knelt and picked up two blood encrusted rings, one silver, one gold._

"_Your father's rings, your grandmother searched this place ten times over for them. Keep them with you always; your mother gave him the silver one." Angela said._

"_And the gold one?" he asked inspecting it. _

"_No one knows, but he never took it off. Even in battle, he was a fierce warrior your father." Angela said, though she was one of the few who actually knew who the gold ring had come from. _

"_How was he captured then?" Kenneth asked anxiously._

"_Murtagh was too strong for him" she said quietly, contemplating the double meaning of her words._

What of my mother?_ Naolin asked._

"_She died after her rider did." Angela said and Kenneth relayed her words. _

"_We should go before night fall" Kenneth whispered hoarsely. "Elva is waiting."_

"_Elva can wait a little longer if you would like" Angela said kindly, knowing that the young woman would not want to disrupt Kenneth's morning of the father he never knew. _

"_This place is for the dead." He said quietly. "I cannot stay here."_

_They were silent on the long winding trek back up to the surface. When they reached the stone door the former herbalist abruptly knelt causing Kenneth to bump into her. _

_She stood up in her hand there was a small delicate mushroom, "strange, they only grow in Farthen Dur." She said turning it over in her worn palm._

"_What is it?" Kenneth asked curiously._

"_It is used to make Tunivor's Nectar." Shaking her head the old Herbalist began the climb down the steep trail._

_Kenneth tucked his head into his cloak later that night but was unable to rest. Seeking to calm his restless mind he took his father's rings from his pocket and sought about trying to learn their secrets. _

_Turning the silver one in his hand he discovered a tiny replica of the mushroom Angela had pointed out to him today inscribed on the band. The gold one however was inscrutable; it reflected the orange light of the coals almost tauntingly, beckoning him into its gilded depts. Sighing he began to put it away when he made out a single worn letter on the inside of the band. As he looked closer he noticed another, and then a four simple words_

In life, in death


End file.
